


How Ambition Begins

by AppleSoda



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drabble, Gen, in between fe6 and fe7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-04 23:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18354017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSoda/pseuds/AppleSoda
Summary: Bern's crown prince is unwell after the events of a fateful nighttime assassination attempt, and takes time to think things through





	How Ambition Begins

The Lycians departed from the Manse as quickly as they arrived. But in the days that passed, the memories of the night they passed through returned to him uncontrollably in sudden, sharp shards.

 

No matter how many hours he was shuffled to sparring, statecraft lessons, or even mild walks in the gardens with Guinivere, Zephiel would come back to being pressed against his bedroom wall, listening intently and trying not to breathe too loudly. He recalled the sword that he clutched tightly for so long that he still felt its grip, even when he held nothing.

 

As his mother listlessly led him and Guinivere to chapel, the words of his last earnest prayer on the night of the assassins’ descent echoed hollowly like the wishes of a child on a festival’s eve. He had wanted his mother and father to love one another, and for Guinivere to grow up safe and strong. The latter wish was still attainable. The former, unfortunately, was something he had to leave behind in childhood.

 

“Milord,” Murdock, his bodyguard spoke up. He was a man of few words, but carried himself with an honor that even someone as young as Zephiel knew had to be earned through nothing but sheer will. “Something troubles you.”

 

“Ah. It’s nothing. I’m just a bit tired…”

 

“If I may have your permission to speak, Milord.” Usually, conversations with the serious general lasted only a few sentences, and Zephiel never saw much beyond the clipped professionalism Murdock carried himself with. He found himself nodding as they walked down one of the Manse’s corridors.

 

“This is a far heavier burden than someone your age should bear,” the knight said. “For reasons beyond my control, I was unable to fight the assailants sent to you.” They passed a grove of trees that cast an enormous, lingering shadow that clung to them, though it was only a few steps until Zephiel and Murdock reentered the sunlit hallway. “Do not presume that you must pretend all is well.”

 

The words were kind, and certainly not ones that Zephiel had expected from someone who was known for ruthlessness on the battlefield. The knight said no more, but looked at him with a paternal sympathy that he would bet good coin on in never seeing in King Desmond’s eyes. In that moment, Zephiel felt the invisible burden on him shift slightly. He knew his pain enough that it would return once more, but in that moment, he knew the extent of it and what he could do.

 

“Thank you, General Murdock. I will take these words into consideration,” he was all the politeness of the Crown Prince’s office, but even so, Zephiel treasured the small, kind gesture. Princes and Kings commanded respect, but not the empathy of their retainers. That he could have Murdock’s loyalty was of immeasurable value.

 

Later, he sat across from Queen Hellene in her parlor. A chessboard in finely wrought Etrurian gilt and finely carved wood, imported from her homeland, captured the attention of both Queen and Prince. Ever since he was young, he had thrived in playing games with his mother, because it was the only time she could be distracted from one courtly scheme or another. When Guinivere watched, Hellene occasionally smiled at the girl, an event that was something of a miracle in itself. So engrossed was she in the process of piecing together effective strategies or figuring out the mind of her growing son. In moments like that, Zephiel still found peace, and was relieved that he could still do so.

 

As Zephiel closed his eyes and envisioned the game, he saw before him the pieces where they lay. A route ahead, with the pieces of the King, the Queen, the illegitimate princess, and him began to form, one pictured scenario after another. Somehow, some way, he would face the unsettling, muddled deceptions of the court of Bern and triumph.

 

Even if a King could be kind and fair, all of his domain could be taken away in an instant. Without the ability to refuse defeat, Zephiel was nothing. Something had to be done about that.


End file.
